X-Mas Magic
by Swinging Cloud
Summary: Companion Smut Piece to No Solid Ground. The war is over, but Santana's worried she's lost her Christmas spirit. Can she find it again and give Brittany her first ever Christmas? Two-Shot. HOLYSMU.
1. Spirit

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Hope your holidays were lovely and that you got everything you wanted out of them! :) Here's my contribution to **The Brittana Fandom's Jolly Holiday Smut-tacular**, a 2-shot set in the NSG 'verse, because fluff. You probably should read NSG in order to understand this story, but if you didn't, you can enjoy the fluff I guess… you just might be slightly confused. Thanks to everyone for reading and following NSG, and all my other basic-ass, generic stories. You guys are the best!

Also, be sure to read all of the other excellent stories in the **HOLYSMU** project, and check the tag on tumblr so you don't miss any! You won't be disappointed. ;D

Okay, have fun.

* * *

I am a predator.

A deadly, skilled hunter, perfect in my execution.

My technique can only be described as flawless, my steps? _Silent_. My prey won't know what hit her, won't know how to combat such fierce opposition. I am lethal. Lethal and experienced and-

_SPLAATT_!

Taken off guard, I fall to the snow, my face stinging from the cold of the snowball that hit me. Brittany's laughter echoes from around the large tree in front of the house, and I sit up, shaking the snow out of my hair and from my scarf. I quickly make a snowball and wait, scanning the white terrain for my enemy.

I will not be defeated. I am a flawless hunter. I am-

_SPLAATT_!

Another snowball hits me from behind, and, grinning, I overdramatically fall to the snow and lie still, the snowball still clutched in my gloved hand. It's quiet for a few moments, and then I hear Brittany's boots crunch in the snow as she comes closer.

"San?"

I don't answer. I try not to smile.

"Santana?"

I can hear the worry in her voice, and for a moment I feel bad, but whatever. She shouldn't have fucked with me. She moves even closer and leans over me to inspect me, and that's when I execute my perfect ATTACK!

I snatch her arm; she makes a sound of surprise as I tug her down to the snow with me, and for a moment we wrestle a little. She grabs a handful of snow and pushes it against my cheek, making me yelp from the cold. I dump the snowball I'd been holding under her jacket, and she squeals, giggling and squirming for a minute, and finally, once both of our scarves and jackets have almost completely soaked through with cold water, we collapse to the white-covered ground, giggling, our breathing rapid and making puffs of steam in the frigid air.

"You're no fair, Santana," Brittany pants, but I can hear the smile in her voice. She shivers beside me, and I move to lie half on top of her, grinning as our jackets squish together. I can just barely feel her warmth underneath her clothes, and it makes me want to get closer to it.

"Don't be upset that you lost, B," I tease.

"I lost?" she asks sincerely, and I smile at her fondly, and get that slightly embarrassed feeling that comes over me whenever I know I'm about to say something really cheesy.

"Well I'm definitely the winner, because I have you."

Brittany beams at me- she never thinks I'm cheesy- and leans up to kiss me, and I meet her halfway. She runs her gloved fingers through my hair, getting it even more tangled with half-melted drops of snow, but I don't care. I press closer to her and kiss her back eagerly, and already I feel a lot warmer. When Brittany slips her tongue out to find mine, I moan a little and push into her even more. It isn't until we hear someone clearing their throat that we pull apart reluctantly.

"Are you two quite done?" Mercedes calls from the front of the mansion, and I stare into Brittany's blue eyes, unable to tear my gaze away. She's so beautiful, even covered in snow, with her cheeks pink from the cold and her blonde hair wild underneath her fuzzy hat, which is crooked from our wrestling.

"Not really," I call to Wheezy. I lean down to press one more kiss to Brittany's warm lips, and then whisper, "I'll never be done," against Brittany's cold little cheek. She squeezes me, and I feel her smile.

"You know we're meeting the others in an hour, right?" Quinn chimes in.

I roll my eyes as I climb off of Brittany and brush the snow from my clothes. "Yes, _Mom_, I haven't forgotten why we are back in Bumfuck, Ohio."

"Well come inside and clean up," Mercedes presses. "Being back here… I don't know, it's too soon."

I stand and help Brittany to her feet, looking around at the Motta Mansion, covered in snow, and a heavy feeling settles over me. It _is_ too soon- too soon since the war ended. It hasn't even been a year yet, and the ongoing clean-up project and the aftermath is still a very real thing for us. I'd been doing all right for myself; I'd been on more talk shows than I even knew existed, and in such a short time, _everyone_ knew our names. It was still completely unreal, and sometimes I wondered if I'd wake up and be back down in the _Batcave_, listening to Sam prepare us for some insane mission that none of us were ready for.

I look at Quinn, and at Mercedes, and think about how hard it's been for them to adjust. I think about how hard it's been for _me_ to adjust, and then realize-

It shouldn't be.

I have everything I've ever wanted- money, fame…

_Brittany_.

I smile a little and stare at Brittany, who's fixing her fuzzy hat. She stops when she catches me looking at her, and I reach up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, cupping her face. Her blue eyes sparkle at me, the same way they've done for over a year. Behind her, I catch sight of the snow-sculptures she made- she's actually really good at it- and smile wider. An Andalite, a cheetah, and something that looks like a winged lion all stand in various places in the yard.

"Whenever you two are ready," Quinn calls impatiently.

I sigh. Brittany smiles. She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it. Then she presses a warm kiss to my cheek, and silently, we make our way up to the Mansion, which is decorated, in true over-the-top Sugar fashion, for Christmas.

Christmas last year was spent underground in Sugar's creepy zombie apocalypse shelter. We'd had no presents, no Christmas tree, no nothing. I don't even remember if we realized when Christmas _was_. We had too many other things to worry about, too many other missions to plan. Time seemed to disappear down there, so far underground, so detached from the rest of the world. Night and day were the same thing. So Christmas? Christmas didn't exist. There was no magic, no holiday spirit. It had been lost in the darkness.

God, that sounds so lame; but seriously, sometimes I worry that it will _always_ be lost. That we'll never be able to enjoy holidays again or adjust to life after the war. That we will always have the shadow of what we've been through following us in our day-to-day lives. I can't count the number of times I've had to relive what we've been through for interviewers, talk shows, radio shows, tv specials, documentaries… And I know there are even more to come. I've been okay so far, but we haven't really had to deal with any huge holidays yet. I have no idea if I have any Christmas spirit in me.

Thanksgiving had been all right, but like everything else lately, it felt unreal. Brittany and I had eaten dinner with my parents, who'd just moved to their new mansion, and it had been- _okay_. But because of the new house, and the sudden overabundance of money that I have, it hadn't felt like those old familiar Thanksgivings. It felt like Thanksgiving with strangers, just- really, really _nice_ ones.

Would Christmas feel the same?

I look around again at the somber faces of my friends- Quinn, Mercedes, and Sam, who's sitting in a recliner staring into the distance- and frown. They've all been working tirelessly since the war ended, too. We're all tired of recounting the nightmares, the missions, the close calls, the casualties. We're all burned out.

But then I look at Brittany, who's standing by the fireplace, admiring the stocking large enough to fit an actual person inside of it hanging from the mantle, and feel a little twinge of sadness. She's been through more than any of us. I want so badly for her to enjoy the holidays, to experience the joy of Christmas- and then a thought hits me; it's Brittany's first Christmas on Earth, without the plague of the Yeerks and the war hanging over her. It's her first Christmas, _period_, because Andalites certainly don't celebrate the birth of baby J. (The missionaries haven't made it to space- _yet_.)

Brittany's never had a Christmas.

And I suddenly feel like my Christmas spirit might be alive again.

* * *

After dinner with the rest of the group (we all lead exceptionally busy lives, but we made a promise to meet up every three months at least) Brittany and I load up into her Audi to make the long drive back to our own mansion. I'd bought Brittany an Audi for her birthday- well, the human birthday listed on her fake birth certificate- and we didn't ever use anything else for travel. Even though the road is long, I prefer Brittany's company in a luxury vehicle over being cramped into a plane with a bunch of rude, screaming morons, relying on someone else to get us to our destination on their own time.

It's quiet on the drive home, but Brittany has the satellite Holiday station on low, and her endearingly off-key humming helps contribute to my thoughts of giving Brittany a real Christmas. The first thing I need to do when we get home is to meet with my agent and inform her that I'm not going to be working for the next two months. The second thing I need to do is take Brittany shopping, because we are going to decorate the house for Christmas.

I must have fallen asleep with my thoughts on the drive, because when I wake up, I'm in Brittany's arms, and she's carrying me into our bedroom. She sets me down gently on the bed and carefully begins to remove my shoes, and I rub my eyes, feeling guilty that she had to drive the whole way by herself.

"Britt," I mumble, still groggy from sleep, but she just squeezes my ankle as she unlaces my boots, and I sigh at how perfect and caring she is. I help her by taking off my coat and shirt, and once we're undressed, we crawl under the covers together. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her warm body, and I sigh at the feeling of her soft skin, tucking my head under her chin and pressing myself as close to her as possible.

"I love you," I tell her, kissing her bare shoulder. She squeezes me in answer and kisses the top of my head.

"I love you, too."

"And I'm going to give you a real Christmas." I close my eyes and smile, my plans to make Brittany's first Christmas memorable surfacing in my brain for a moment as I begin to slip off to sleep.

This is going to be the best Christmas ever. I've just got to tell my agent I'm not doing any Christmas specials.

* * *

"What do you mean you're not doing any Christmas specials!?" my agent demands.

Obviously, she's not taking it well.

"Look, I've been working my ass off since the war ended-"

"-So have _I_-"

"And I haven't really gotten to spend any time with _my wife_," I snap, ignoring her interruption. "The holidays are approaching, and I think my demand to have some time off to spend with my family is more than fair."

She tried to argue, of course. Said she'd had all kinds of heartwarming specials lined up, about how the Heroes of Earth were spending their first Christmas free of the war, and how tortured and changed we all are, and other sob-story garbage like that. But I'd already decided I didn't want the war hanging over my first real Christmas with Brittany, and doing any of those specials would be a reminder that we aren't actually free of it.

I drive home, feeling proud of myself for saying no, but also annoyed that my agent didn't even consult me about taking over my holidays- like, I have a life, you know- and had already signed me up for specials. Maybe it's time to get a new agent.

I park the car. It's freezing out, but the weatherman said it won't snow this week.

Probably.

I make my way inside the warm house, and I'm immediately smacked in the face with the smell of something _awesome_. I can hear holiday music playing, and I feel my heart pounding with affection as I make my way into the kitchen. The sight that greets me makes me feel overwhelmed with adoration and my knees feel a little weak, so I lean against the doorframe.

Brittany's baking.

With my mother.

I watch Brittany giggle and smile a little. She's covered in different colors of frosting. A smear of red is on her cheek, a drop of green on the side of her nose where she must've scratched it. She's bent over the counter of the kitchen island, her brow furrowed in concentration, and my mother stands next to her, giving her instructions and encouragement.

Brittany looks up and her sparkling eyes catch mine, and my knees go even weaker. "San, look!" she says proudly, gesturing to a plate beside her. I tug my scarf away from my neck and move closer, and when I reach the plate of cookies, I see they're in all kinds of fun holiday shapes- wreaths, Christmas trees, reindeer- but the colors on them are funky.

"Try one," my mother urges, and I obediently pick up a purple-colored bell and bite into it. I'm not disappointed. It's probably the best cookie I've ever tasted.

"Wow," I say, taking another bite. It's sweet, with a hint of vanilla, but not overpowering. I'm impressed. "Britt, these cookies are _genius_."

"You've got quite a talented baker on your hands, Mija!" My mother says with a grin, and Brittany beams, the most adorable blush coloring her already multi-colored cheeks. Brittany had taken an interest in cooking lately, and most of her adventures turned out to be delicious and successful, but I can't remember her ever attempting to bake before.

I eat the last bite of the cookie. If _that's_ the result of her baking, then she definitely needs to do it more often. I smile fondly at Brittany, who's still holding my gaze, and reach up to wipe some of the frosting from her nose. She scrunches her face up and I laugh, feeling a million different things- lucky, warm, _in love._ I glance around the kitchen, and find it decorated for the holiday, with red-and-green kitchen towels, holiday candles, little Christmas-y figurines- it looks like it came straight out of a Martha Stewart catalog. I eye my mother- maybe it _did_.

"It was too plain in here, Santana," my mother scolds. "You needed a little cheer. It's already December. What's wrong with you?"

I nod, wincing. "I've been really busy working lately But we _do _need some cheer, Mami. In fact," I start, making sure I have both their attentions, "I'm taking Brittany shopping tomorrow for Christmas lights."

"You are?" Brittany asks, her smile practically splitting her face at the thought of getting to spend time with me. Her enthusiasm reminds me of a little kid's, and my heart hurts a little with guilt. I _have_ been working a lot lately, and I haven't exactly gotten to spend a lot of time with her.

"What about work?" My mother asks, narrowing her eyes, but she's smiling. Both my parents adore Brittany, and they have ever since they'd met her. After the war, I had to tell them she was an alien and that we were married- that was awkward as fuck- but once they'd gotten to see how absolutely perfect she is, they'd fallen for her charm and charisma. It also didn't hurt that she makes me happier than I've ever been in my entire life.

"I told my agent I'm not working for the next two months," I say casually with a shrug.

Brittany stops and looks at me, her expression unreadable. "You're not?"

I reach for her hand and squeeze it, shaking my head. "Nope. I'm spending the next two months celebrating the holidays with the woman I love."

"Awww," My mother coos, and I roll my eyes. "Santana, it's about time you focus on the things that are really important."

I take a deep breath, feeling my cheeks burn. "Yes, Mami, I know. Don't you have to be getting home?"

"No," My mother says cheekily. I shoot her a glare and she laughs. "But I suppose I'll get going and leave you kids alone." She picks up a plate wrapped in tinfoil. "Your Papi is going to _love_ these cookies. Santana, you've been hiding Brittany away!"

My glare melts into a soft smile, especially when Brittany and my mother hug and my mother plants a big kiss on Brittany's cheek, still raving about what a great baker she is. It makes my heart ache in the best way, and I'm so thankful to have such an awesome family. My parents had taken it well when I told them at Thanksgiving that Brittany and I were going to spend Christmas at home. My father had placed his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.

"You're an adult, Santana," he'd said. "You've dealt with far more than we have ever had to deal with. You've made life-or-death decisions for months; you can make your own decisions about Christmas. You have a family now and a life of your own."

"Thanks, Papi," I'd said as he'd pulled me into a hug.

"[Just don't forget about your parents, okay?]" he'd told me, and I promised we'd have dinner with them the day after Christmas. It's not like I wouldn't see them- they lived in the next town over from us. My mother was over all the time, taking Brittany shopping, going to lunch, getting their nails done, you know, all the stuff she used to do with me that I was now too busy for, but I didn't resent it.

Truthfully, I've never been so happy.

And now, with two months off to spend with my wife, I was about to be even happier.

* * *

"Fucking fuck this goddamn cocksucking piece of _shit_-"

I never knew how frustrating putting up Christmas lights actually is. I mean, I'd watched my father put them up every year, heard him curse and swear, but I thought he was just being dramatic.

Boy, was I wrong.

"Why does everything need its own damn extension cord?" I growl, wrestling with a reindeer made completely out of white lights. Earlier, I'd taken Brittany shopping, and she had wanted nearly everything in the store.

And since I always want to give Brittany everything that she wants, I bought one of nearly everything in the store.

We had to get the boxes delivered, because I obviously couldn't fit them all in the Audi. But what I neglected to realize is that once we got all of the blow-up penguins wearing Christmas hats, reindeer, Santas, and candy canes home, we had to set them all up.

I wish I'd thought this through better.

Brittany had a vision- of course- of where she wanted everything, but fuck man, trying to untangle and run everything together was really, really frustrating.

"Need a hand?" Blaine asks me gently from the foot of my ladder as I continue to curse at the string of icicle lights I'm currently struggling to connect to the ones already in place on the house.

"Why are _you_ here?" I grump, glaring at the good two inches of space keeping the two cords I need to connect from connecting. Maybe if I throw them across the yard -

"We came by to see the house," Kurt offers, picking up the box of roof clips and beginning to hook them to the lights. "We didn't know it wasn't even _decorated_ yet. You know Christmas is next week, right?"

I open my mouth to say something scathing, and Blaine cuts me off. "You certainly have a lot to do. We'd love to help."

"What do you know about Christmas lights?" I snap, glaring at the lights in my hand which have now tangled. I huff angrily.

"I used to help my dad all the time," Blaine says, untangling the lights with ease.

"Weren't you _blind_?"

Blaine's expression softens further. "The Christmas before last, yes. I was." He hands me a clip, and I wordlessly snap the lights to the roof, feeling like a bitch for bringing up Blaine's disability. He's trying to help me- and let's face it, I obviously need all the help I can get- and I'm treating him like shit.

I sigh. "Look- I'm so-"

"It's okay," Blaine cuts me off, smiling. "If it weren't for you and the others, I'd _still_ be blind." He looks at Kurt. "And I might not have ever met Kurt." He shrugs, and I climb down the ladder, ready to move it another foot to the right. "So, I don't know; it sucks that the war happened and everything, but- I'm grateful that it did, and that I'm alive."

I nod, staring out across the lawn and watching as Brittany digs out a huge blow-up reindeer; I smile. "I know what you mean."

"You know, Satan," Kurt starts. "I paid a company to come in and put up my lights."

"That takes all the fun out of it," Blaine teases, giving Kurt a playful shove.

"Oh, yeah- _fun_ is exactly what I'm having," I grumble, climbing back up the ladder and wishing I'd thought of hiring someone to do this shit for me. Sometimes I forget that I'm disgustingly rich…. Definitely doing that next year, though. "Hand me that strand, would you?"

We continue putting up lights, and eventually, the house, bushes, trees and mailbox all have lights covering them, and it doesn't look half bad. Lighted candy canes line the driveway, and the last thing left is to assemble the metal, lighted outline of Santa to put on the roof. Once I got some direction and assistance, putting up the lights actually wasn't too bad, and it started to actually feel like the season. Every time we switched something else on to check it was working, Brittany's smile made my heart melt. It went by quicker than I expected, and soon we were ready to start assembling Santa. While we worked, Blaine told me of his ingenious (_his_ word, not mine) plan to write and produce (and probably star in) _Transformers: The Musical_.

"Think about it," he said, lining up the sleigh with the reins of the first reindeer. "We have documentaries and specials and Arty's making a movie; why shouldn't there be a musical? It could tell of our triumphs and victories-"

"Of which there were very few," I mumble.

"-and be a positive contribution to all the sad, depressing features that are already out there."

"I think that's great," Brittany says monotonously as she snaps together two reindeer.

"Honey, don't encourage him," I say, touching Brittany's arm. She giggles; I grin.

"I'm just saying, it would be pretty awesome," Blaine finishes. "I'm going to do it. I think it'll be a big success."

"Well if it happens, I'll go see it, if only to sit in the front row so I can throw rotten fruit at you and boo."

"Very funny, Santana," Blaine says good-naturedly.

"I certainly thought so," Brittany agrees, and this time it's my turn to giggle. She squeezes my thigh and Kurt rolls his eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, we're all frustrated.

"That piece doesn't go there!" I snap to Kurt.

"I'm sorry, but it looks just like the one in the picture."

"No that's _this_ one" I argue, holding up a piece that admittedly looks the exact same.

"Guys, I really don't think it matters, they might be interchangeable," Blaine reasons.

I sigh, tossing the piece down. "Whatever. You can figure it out. I don't have the patience for this." I stand, brushing off the front of my jeans. "Britt, I'm gonna finish blowing up that huge snowman."

Brittany nods, and I walk down to the snowman, which looks like a big white puddle of plastic on our lawn. I plug in the inflator and monitor the tacky thing as it slowly fills. I look around at the tons and tons of lights, displays, blow-up Santas, and huge metal framework Blaine, Kurt and Brittany are still assembling, and sigh. The other houses on our street have very tasteful, minimal lights, mostly all white, and nothing on the lawn.

I shake my head with a smile. Brittany and I are officially _those_ people.

Once Frosty is full and wobbling in the breeze, I walk back up the driveway to the others. Blaine's on the roof attaching Santa and his sleigh, and Brittany's on the ladder holding the cords. I smile at her excitement as Kurt passes up _nine_- yes, we went there- lighted reindeer.

"Well, Santa's definitely going to know to stop _here_," Kurt jokes. Blaine nods in agreement as he attaches Prances, or whoever the first deer is, to the sleigh, and Brittany pauses.

"Who's Santa?" she asks. She looks at me. "At first I thought it was a new nickname for you that I didn't know about, but the box says it, too, doesn't it?" She looks unsure. "Everyone keeps talking about him. Who is he?"

Kurt and Blaine both look baffled about what to say, casting each other and me helpless looks. I stare at the sleigh with Santa Claus in it.

And that's when I get an idea.

* * *

**8)**

**Okay so the next part should be up within the next two days, I hope. It'll be super fluffy (and smutty, ofc.) **

**Review if you feel like it, but if you don't, then that's okay. **

**See you next time, pals! **


	2. Magic

**Warning: **Lesbian sex, homie!

**A/N:** Hope everyone had a safe holiday, and sorry for the delay. Things to do and all that.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, or whatever'd the first part of this story. And thanks to those of you who started putting yourselves through the loooong process of reading **NSG**. I surely appreciate all of you little sweethearts. :')

Here's the final part to this little holiday story. Enjoy!

* * *

"Come _on_, Puck," I plead. "I'll pay you. _I'll pay you._ I'll buy the suit and everything, all you have to do is just show up-"

Puck lifts his hand up to halt me. "Dude, no."

"Why not?" I demand, feeling all my plans crumbling right before my eyes with Puck's firm response. I need him to go along with my idea in order to bring the magic of Christmas to Brittany, which is why I'm currently standing in his penthouse trying to convince him.

"Because it's fuckin' _humiliating_, and besides, why would I want to spend my Christmas dressing up as ol' _Fatso_?"

"You don't even celebrate Christmas," I complain, crossing my arms. I hadn't forgotten that yamaka stint that got him captured all those many, many months ago, the Jewish bastard.

"Well maybe I want to start this year." He shrugs.

"And what better way to get into the spirit than by playing Santa?" He opens his mouth to protest again and I cut him off. "Look, I told you I'd _pay_ you."

"So why can't you pay someone else? Why me?"

I shoot him an incredulous look. "Ew, _no_. I don't want some smelly old grandpa pedophile or a creepy drug-addict in my house, touching Britt's presents. It has to be you, Puck. You're the only one I trust."

Puck laughs. "You trust me?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, you moron. Thus why I'm standing here, asking you to do this favor for me." I can tell he's starting to cave- it must've been the word trust that I dropped on him- and so I really drive my point home. "C'mon Puck, it's for _BrittBritt_. Think of how happy she'll be when she sees you, dressed like Santa Claus, delivering her presents?"

Now it's Puck's turn to roll his eyes. He gives me a disapproving look. "She's not a five-year-old, Santana."

"No, she's not," I agree, "but she also never got to experience the joy of Christmas as a child- or ever- before. So even if it's just for this one year, I want her to have that feeling. That indescribable joy of waking up on Christmas morning and seeing the presents under the tree, and believing in the magic of Santa Clause- before some asshole kid comes along and tells you he isn't real," I mutter bitterly, and Puck looks at me curiously.

"Should I ask what-"

"Nope."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath. "It's just this one time, right?" I nod enthusiastically, giving him a hopeful look. He smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay. I'll do it."

I nearly jump up in the air with excitement before I realize I'm supposed to be an adult. I clear my throat. "Cool beans."  
"You owe me so much, you don't even know," Puck mutters, but I don't even care. I'm too busy imagining the look on Brittany's face when she sees Santa for the first time.

* * *

Two days later, Brittany and I are at the Christmas tree farm picking out our Christmas tree. It's cold, and I'm finally starting to feel excitement about the upcoming holiday. I squeeze Brittany's gloved hand in mine and smile fondly at her. These are the moments I fought for during the war; these are the things I wanted to be able to do with Brittany. Normal, couple-y things. I'd picked out trees with my parents in the past, but being here, with Brittany for the first time, brought on a new sense of enthusiasm and a feeling of elation I'd never experienced before.

As I stare at Brittany, I can't help but think about how pretty she looks under the obnoxious spotlights. She's wearing one of her adorable hats, and she's so beautiful that it makes my heart ache. Combined with the feeling of excitement about the holiday, I almost feel like I'm in a dream, but the chill in the air reminds me that this is _real_. My smile widens, and I hold Brittany's hand tighter.

I'd explained what we were doing- what the purpose of collecting a Christmas tree is- on the car ride over, but as we walk up to the first eight-foot tree under the tent, Brittany pauses.

"I'm still not sure I understand," she admits, touching the branch of the Fraser fur fondly. "Every year, humans cut down hundreds of trees, drag them into their homes to let them live, decorated, for a short time, and then once the trees starve to death, they throw them away?" She shakes her head slowly, stroking the needles of the tree. "It seems... Wasteful. And sad."

"It... _is_," I say, feeling like an idiot for bringing Brittany to the equivalent of a tree slaughterhouse. She'd told me stories during the war, at night in bed while we would cuddle, of the trees on her home planet, and how they could "speak" to them, in a way. Young Andalites had _Guide Trees_ that they bonded with, and Brittany shared with me some things she had learned from hers. But even still, Brittany's always been especially sensitive to all kinds of life- of _course_ she wouldn't want a real tree. I feel like an idiot, until I remember- "But some humans buy fake trees instead," I offer.

"Fake trees?" Brittany lifts her head, hopeful. "They aren't real?"

I shake my head, smiling encouragingly. "No. They're made out of plastic… or something. But they definitely weren't ever alive."

Brittany bites her lip, dropping her gaze to our joined hands. She makes circles on mine with her thumb, and my stomach flutters. "Could we, maybe, do that, San?"

I squeeze her hand, feeling like my chest is about to explode with how much I absolutely _adore_ Brittany, and then lift it to my mouth to kiss her knuckles. "Of course, B. Whatever you want, honey."

Brittany smiles at me, and I wonder how my chest hasn't actually exploded yet.

Wordlessly, we hop back into the F-350 we'd borrowed from my father, then make the annoying drive over to the department store to pick out a fake tree. But Brittany's beside me, so I don't even think about how rude it is when an asshole cuts me off, or how frustrating it is when someone doesn't let me go even though it's my turn. All of the irritants I usually experience around the holidays just disappear- like magic- and I only feel the good things, like the pressure of Brittany's hand in mine, and the smell of balsam candles, and the sound of Mariah Carey singing over the low speakers in the store.

Once we have our tree, we begin the long task of picking out ornaments. I let Brittany pick out whatever she wants- and again, she wants a lot- and finally, when we basically acquire another truckload of stuff, we make the drive back to our house. Brittany holds my hand the entire way, and I feel like a big dork and way prouder than I probably should be for doing something as simple as letting Brittany have a fake tree. But making Brittany happy makes me happy, so I don't mind being a dork.

When we get home, we unload the truck- together- and unpack the tree. Brittany and I have always been an awesome team, so I turn on some holiday pop and the tree goes up in no time. Once it's standing tall in the center of our sitting room, I open up a box of lights and start decorating. Brittany helps- because she's perfect- by holding the end and feeding me the untangled lights as I go, and as I'm finishing up the first strand, the phone rings.

Yeah, we have a house line. Deal with it.

I move to answer it, completely unsurprised when I discover it's my mother, confirming our plans to have Christmas Eve dinner together as a family at my parents' house. I kindly remind her that, no, our plans haven't changed since the last time she talked to me about them literally five hours ago, and hang up the phone. When I make my way back to the sitting room, I can't help giggling at the sight that greets me; Brittany's tangled in the Christmas lights, which are now blinking. She shoots me a helpless look, like an animal in a cage, and my heart melts as I walk forward.

"Britt," I giggle. "What happened?"

"I was putting them on the tree," she says pathetically, struggling. I grab her chin and tilt her face up, then lean up on my toes and kiss her, grinning.

She smiles back and wraps her arms around me, forgetting for a moment that she's still covered in blinking Christmas lights, and then we're both giggling as she gets even more tangled. I keep kissing Brittany as the opening slow notes to one of the most overplayed Christmas songs of all time echo through the house.

"_Ohh, Iiiiii… don't want a loooot for Christmas_

_There is just one thing I neeeed…"_

I press one last kiss to Brittany's lips before I pull back and gently untangle the lights from around her, and as the instruments and Mariah Carey's voice pick up in intensity, Brittany pulls me close and spins me around, grinning.

I laugh as she twirls me into a dance around the living room, and I can't keep from belting the lyrics to the song to her, and soon she's chiming in with me and we're both singing and dancing and laughing and my heart is so, so full and warm and I can't believe that any of this is real because it's better than I ever imagined it. The lights on the tree glow behind Brittany, and she looks magical, and everything feels magical and beautiful and Brittany's singing to me-

"-all I want for Christmas, is-"

I cut her off with another kiss, and she smiles against my lips, pulling me close, and it occurs to me that we probably will never finish decorating the tree.

And I'm totally okay with that.

* * *

"_Mow_."

I look down at Lord Tubbington, who's waiting by the door for us as we enter the house. He rubs against my ankles before waddling over to Brittany to do the same, and I chuckle at his eagerness as I tug my scarf from around my neck and set my purse down on the key table. I smile fondly at Brittany as she crouches to pet Tubbs, and he meows again at the affection, purring so loudly I could probably hear him across the room.

It's Christmas Eve and Brittany and I have just returned from dinner with my parents. We'd done our gift exchange- we bought them a trip to Tahiti or something, I don't know, I let Brittany pick the place. Hopefully I wasn't sending them to a warzone. They'd gotten me and Brittany a really thoughtful blender… no, I'm joking, they bought us matching tennis bracelets- aren't we just the cutest?- and keeping with our Christmas Eve tradition, new, matching pajamas to wear to bed tonight. It's absolutely precious that my parents think Brittany and I wear clothes to bed, isn't it?

It's Christmas Eve, and I'd bought Lord Tubbington the best gourmet cat food money can buy for his Christmas Eve dinner. He seems to know it, too, because he hasn't taken his eyes off of the little bowl in my hand. Let's be real, he eats pretty top-shelf cat food as it is, so I won't be surprised if there's legit an actual roasted bird in that plastic container, or a fileted fish. Lord T meows excitedly as I pop open the lid, and I don't miss the way Brittany's watching me like I'm the best thing she's ever seen. It makes me blush and feel proud of myself for sharing some holiday spirit with our adopted cat.

"You're beautiful," Brittany tells me softly, and I blush harder as I bend down to place the food in front of His Royal Highness. He meows gratefully and then he might as well be dead because I know he's not going to be paying any attention to us for the rest of the night.

Which is kind of exactly my plan.

Because it's Christmas Eve, and, to put it bluntly-

_I'm nervous as fuck._

I keep telling myself there's no way Puck is going to pull off being Santa. He's _Puck_, and Brittany's too smart, too observant, too clever to fall for some stupid disguise. Although, honestly, I paid a small fortune for the costume, so I'm going to be pissed if it doesn't fool her for at _least_ a minute.

Once we are changed into our pajamas- we decided to humor my parents, and anyways, I'd rather she _not_ be naked when _Santa_ actually arrives- and I have a nice fire lit in the fireplace, we snuggle down on the couch and just enjoy the feeling of Christmas all around us. The tree isn't real, but whatever, I bought a scented candle and some high-class air fresheners so it still smells like it is. The lights twinkle, the fireplace crackles, _Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas_ croons softly from the radio, and Brittany's tucked into my side, tracing lazy patterns on my fleece-covered thigh.

"So Santa's coming tonight?" Brittany asks, and all of a sudden, I realize that I haven't exactly explained Santa Claus very well to her.

But I have just the thing in mind to remedy that.

After pressing a kiss to Brittany's temple, I get up and walk to our bookshelf, then tug down my worn copy of _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_. (Oh, come on- like you _don't_ have a copy?) Then I settle back down beside Brittany on the couch, handing her the book. She holds it like she's holding something fragile and precious, and she studies the cover, which has some super-dramatic depiction of Santa Claus riding an overly-majestic sleigh straight up into the sky. I mean, I'd roll my eyes if I wasn't so completely head-over-heels in love with the girl in front of me staring at the book so closely.

"Do you want to read it, B?"

She shakes her head, a soft, shy smile on her face. "Will you read it to me? I like the sound of your voice."

My heart melts again, because how could it not? Brittany's absolutely perfect, and as I crack the book open and read the first line, I try to put as much enthusiasm as I can into my reading. It's not hard. Knowing it's Brittany's first time ever hearing the story makes it seem like it's my first time ever reading it, even though I practically know the tale by heart.

As I turn the pages, Brittany stares, enraptured, at the vivid illustrations and it makes my heart pound as I imagine our future together, with her reading this story to our kids someday-

Okay, I'm getting too cheesy.

When I finish the book, Brittany looks impressed.

"But how does Santa make it around the world in one night?" she asks curiously, without a trace of skepticism. I love how trusting and imaginative she is. "I thought humans didn't have that technology yet."

I smile mysteriously at her. "It's magic, Britt. Santa has special Christmas magic."

Brittany doesn't answer, but instead settles down against me, contemplating my words and the story we'd read. We continue to snuggle on the couch, just listening to Christmas music and enjoying the ambience, before my eyes wander to the clock and I realize it's getting late.

"Britt, we'd better get to bed," I say. "Santa won't show up if we're awake."

"Why not?"

"Uh." Well, shit. I have no fucking clue. "Because the presents are a surprise."

Brittany accepts my answer, and we trek into the kitchen to make a plate of cookies and pour a glass of milk, _for Santa_. Then, once everything is set, we go up to bed and climb under the covers. Brittany curls up to me, pillowing her head on my chest, and as my eyes slip closed, I can't remember a single moment where I've been happier.

* * *

I wake up to Brittany shaking me.

"San," she whispers urgently.

"Wha," I mumble, forcing my eyes open. It's dark, but I can hear some shuffling downstairs. I look at the clock on our nightstand and fight the eye roll that comes- Puck's _late_, but I'd be lying if I said I'm surprised. At least he's here.

"I hear something," Brittany says, sounding half worried and half excited. I try not to grin at the idea of my plan actually working, and impress myself with my ability to keep a straight face as I say,

"It must be Santa Claus, Britt."

Brittany's eyes widen. "Santa?"

I nod, and she climbs out of bed, walking cautiously to the door. She pauses and looks back at me, and I nod again, encouraging, and she licks her lips nervously before turning back to the door.

I follow her downstairs, and this time I can't help but roll my eyes as I see Puck, dressed in a really expensive Santa costume, bent over the plate of cookies we'd left out for him. He's decked out in a full-on white beard and mustache, and long white hair down his back. He's even got on a fat suit, and I have to admit, I'm a little impressed, myself.

"Santa Claus?" Brittany asks uncertainly, and at the sound of her voice, Puck snaps up. When he sees Brittany, he smiles, and clutches his stomach.

"_Ho, ho, ho_," he chuckles in a voice that's much, much deeper than his normal voice, and I sigh at the sound. You have _got_ to be kidding me. "Sup, little girl. What's your name?"

"Brittany Susan Lopez-Pierce," Brittany says, and I smile a little. Brittany always likes to say her full name- I think because she's so used to saying her full Andalite name. All the same, I'll never get tired of hearing my last name attached to hers. _Never_.

Puck sits down in the recliner and pats his lap. "Well why don't you come on over here and tell ol' Santa Claus what you want for Christmas?"

I shoot him a murderous glare over Brittany's shoulder- because _what the actual fuck_, this is _not_ part of what we discussed- but Brittany's already eagerly moving to sit on his knee, and Puck just better hope that a situation doesn't _pop up_ or-

"Yo- what do you want for Christmas?"

Brittany smiles. "I already have everything I could possibly want for myself," she says, and again my heart pounds from how perfect she is. It's a constant thing. The struggle is real.

"So I just hope that my Andalite family has whatever they want," Brittany continues, "even though I know you probably don't travel that far into space, nor does your sleigh have space-travelling capabilities, considering your reindeer probably breathe oxygen and would require-"

"Ho, ho, hooo," Puck laughs gruffly, cutting her off, and Brittany stands from his lap. "I'll see what I can do, Brittany. But Santa is a very busy, old man."

She stares at him for a moment. "Santa, you look a lot like my friend, Puck."

I freeze; my stomach tenses. _Fuck, she knows_. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_- "Well he's definitely _not_, so-"

"Nope. I'm not," Puck agrees quickly, nodding his head. His beard wiggles off his chin slightly and I want to slap my forehead, but a quick glance at Brittany reveals she's busy looking out the window and missed it. Okay, she _doesn't_ know. I follow her gaze and can just barely make out the form of a reindeer- how the _fuck_?- and I look at Puck, who's smirking arrogantly.

"Yo, these cookies were off the chain," he says, reaching for another, but the plate is empty. "You got any more?"

"Sure, Santa!" Brittany says with a grin. "I've got a whole bunch-"

"_Santa_," I snap pointedly, "don't you have a ton of _other_ houses to visit?"

"Nah, I got elves to do that shit for me." He puts his booted feet up on the coffee table and shakes his empty plate at me. "I need some more _cookies_ or I won't be able to get my reindeer off the ground." I snatch the plate from his hand and then turn from Puck, fuming, but I pause when he says, "And some _milk_, too. Need something to wash those bangin' cookies down, _ho, ho, ho_…"

I make my way into the kitchen- lividly- and catch a snatch of their conversation as I go.

"You control the reindeer?" Brittany asks in awe.

"Hell, yeah- those lazy shits don't just fly on their _own_. I use my _magic staff_ to-"

"Oh, my _god,"_ I breathe, trying not to flip my shit. I grab a handful of cookies, don't bother to even refill the glass of milk, and take a deep breath, trying not to rip out my hair. Then I quickly return to the living room, where _Santa_ is still explaining to Brittany about the mechanics of his flying reindeer. I panic- she _has_ to know- and toss the plate of cookies in Puck's lap. He looks startled, but a pointed look from me has him eating the cookies in a rush.

When he finishes, I grab him by the arm and haul him to his feet. "Okay, _Santa_, it's been a pleasure but it would be just _rude_ of us to keep you all to ourselves, you've got a ton of other houses to visit on _the other side of the world_ and we want you to make it through the night." I practically drag Puck by the elbow to the door, and he holds on to his stupid red hat as he stumbles after me.

"Okay, okay, _jeez_," he mutters. "I'm just having a little-"

I yank the front door open and I'm greeted with an angry reindeer.  
_[It's about fucking time,]_ Arty snaps, pawing the snow with his hoof, and I shoot Puck an incredulous look.

He smirks mischievously at me, his eyes twinkling- like fucking Santa Claus, I swear- and grabs his stomach.

"Ho, ho, ho," he laughs over-exaggeratingly and he walks to the sleigh that's attached to Arty's harness. Like, an _actual_ sleigh. I blink in disbelief at them, wondering how in the fuck Puck convinced Arty to be a reindeer for this event, but as I cast a glance to Brittany and find her beaming, my expression softens and my heart pretty much melts into a puddle. I don't really care. I'm just happy that Brittany is so happy.

"Don't be too _naughty_, ladies," Santa Puck says, wiggling his eyebrows at us, and yep, the warmth is gone, replaced by an overwhelming urge to smack the fake beard right off his-

"Thanks, Santa!" Brittany says excitedly, waving, and Puck waves back before urging Arty to pull him away into the darkness.

We watch them go for a moment, and I wonder if Brittany has figured out how fucking pathetic we are, but then she turns to me and wraps her arms around my neck.

"Wow!" she says breathlessly, and I stand there, stunned, as she hugs me tightly. Does she know, or..?

Another glance to her face, and I honestly can't tell. She could just be playing along. She could be-

Brittany smiles a genuine, happy smile, and suddenly, I really don't care if she knows the truth or not. She's happy, which means-

We just pulled that off.

I let Brittany pull me inside, gushing about Santa and how amazing he is, and when we reach the Christmas tree, Brittany looks at me.

"Can I open my presents?" she asks, and my heart thumps madly with how adorable she is.

I shake my head. "You have to wait until the morning, B," I say softly, and then I add, to counteract her look of disappointment, "but I do have one present you can open now." I guide her to sit on the couch, and then lean down to kiss her forehead. "I'll be right back."

* * *

When I'm back on the couch and holding a small square box in my hands, I suddenly feel nervous, even though I know Brittany's going to love the gift I got her.

I hand her the box, and she looks at it for a moment, but we celebrated her birthday over the summer, so I'm confident she knows what to do.

She carefully pulls the ribbon from the box- don't judge, I'm actually a _fantastic_ present wrapper- and then begins methodically tearing the glossy wrapping paper from the box while I chew my lip in anticipation.

When she opens the box, she pauses to inspect the thing inside, and then her eyes get really shiny and I know I've done good.

"Santana…" she breathes as she pulls out the ornament I made for her. I don't need to tell her that, though- she already knows. She stares at it, smiling as she inspects all the details. It's a pretty involved ornament, but I'm proud of the way it turned out. It's a little platform, and on it sits a cheetah, a gorilla, a bear, a hawk, a white lion, a tiger, two wolves, and a tiny Andalite figurine- a real pain in the ass to make, by the way- all of which I painstakingly painted by hand. Behind the little figures is a lenticular photo of the Earth, and on the other side of it is a very specific section of space- the section of space which includes her Home Planet. I'd had to get information from Lauren for that little section, but Brittany's smile when she sees it lets me know it's worth all the trouble I went through to get it for her.

"This is incredible, San," she says, holding the ornament like it's made of glass. Which- it _is_, so I'm really glad she's so careful with it.

"Thanks, Britt," I say, and then I hold my breath as she finds the piece of paper- her real present- in the box.

"What is…?" She trails off as she unfolds it and reads it, and then she places her hands over her mouth. "Oh, my-"

"It's permission from the Fleet to visit your planet, Britt," I say softly. "I contacted the Andalite High Command and-" I'm cut off by Brittany's lips on mine, and she pushes me down to the couch, wrapping her arms around me, and I hold her close, hoping that her response means she likes her present. She kisses me for long moments, burying her fingers in my hair, and I hug her tightly, enjoying the way she makes my heart pound in my chest and my stomach fill with a million butterflies.

Okay, maybe not a _million_, I doubt they could all fit, but-

"I can't believe you did this for me," Brittany whispers when she pulls back for air.

"Why?" I ask, reaching up to cup her cheek. "I love you, Brittany. And I want you to be able to go home to see your family. And," I say, feeling my nerves coming back, "I'd like to meet them- if you _want_ me to."

"Of course I want you to meet them," she says firmly. "I want them to see how happy you make me, how good you take care of me." She kisses me softly. "_So_ good." After a few more kisses- not that I'm complaining- she lays her head on my shoulder and nuzzles her face into my neck, settling down on top of me. "When do you want to go?"

I shrug a little, making Brittany's head wobble. She giggles and I smile. "I don't know. Sometime over the summer, maybe?" I take a deep breath. "I'm going to be cutting back on my work hours. I-" I pause, stroking my fingers along her arm. "I really miss you, Britt."

"I miss you, too." I feel her smile against my shoulder, and she draws a heart on my chest with her finger, making me grin.

"Thank you for spending the holidays with me," Brittany says softly after a while, and I squeeze her closer to me, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"Of course, B," I breathe into her blonde hair. "I'm sorry I've been so busy. I know it must suck hanging out around the house-"

"No, Santana," she says honestly. "I don't mind. I've been getting a lot better at being human. But something Blaine said the other day made me think…"

I chuckle nervously. "Oh god, do I _want_ to know?"

I can hear the smile in her voice as she answers, "I think so..."

I kiss her head again, grinning wider. "Of course I do, Britt. I always want to know what you're thinking."

"Well," she starts softly, "Blaine mentioned that he wanted to create _Transformers: The Musical_, and while I think that's the worst idea ever-"

"I love you _so_ _much_."

"-I do think that something celebrating our battles in a positive manner would be beneficial."

"Okay," I say slowly, contemplating what that means. "What did you have in mind?"

Brittany takes a deep breath, and I feel nervous for her for a moment, wondering what she's thinking, and then she says, "I want to be a morph dancer, Santana." She lifts her head, turning to look at me, and her blue eyes are fervent and impassioned as she continues, "I want to bring the art of transforming to life, and, I don't know, humans usually get a career, right? And I've always had my heart set on being a clown- bringing joy to others- and I really think that I could do that, and I know it will cost a lot of money and I'm not asking you to pay for it, I can get a job and-"

"Britt," I interrupt. "I think that's a genius idea."

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

I nod. "Really, really. You've always wanted to do this, and nothing would make me happier than helping you achieve your dreams."

Brittany hugs me tightly, burying her face against my neck. "I love you so much, Santana."

"I love you the most," I breathe. "Always." Brittany lifts her head at my words, and we stare into each other's eyes for a long, intense moment. Her blue eyes sparkle with the reflection of the Christmas lights and the fireplace, and as I look into them, I think about how grateful I am to be alive. I think about how amazing it is to live the life I'm living, with Brittany. I think about how much I love the girl on top of me, and how I want to spend every day for the rest of my life doing exactly what I'm doing. I think about how this Christmas is so different than any other Christmas I've ever had- how it's _better_, and how I finally feel like it's regained some of the magic and mystery it had when I was a kid; somehow, I just know it's because of Brittany, and as the realization hits me I'm overcome by an intense feeling I've never felt before. It's a lot like love, but different, stronger. I don't even know-

And then Brittany's kissing me, holding my face gently but firmly in her hands, and she presses against me, grinding her hips down into mine and making me suck in a sharp breath. I slide my hands up her thighs, pulling her down into me while I roll my hips up, and she continues to kiss me as we start up a sloppy rhythm. I tug at her pajama pants, and she lifts up slightly, allowing me to get them down to her knees. I don't bother to pull them down further- she's not wearing underwear, and I have plenty of room to slip my hand between her legs.

I cup her center and she releases a shuddering breath before kissing me again. I push up against her, letting the heel of my hand put pressure on her, and her hips buck down in response, making me bite my lip. I curl my fingers up, finding her entrance, which is slick and so, so wet I can't withhold my moan of pleasure at the evidence that she wants me as badly as I want her. She grinds down, forcing my fingers inside her, and she's warm, and tight, and I want to go slow, but-

"Fuck, you feel good," she pants, and the sound of her cursing sends a shiver down my spine. It's still relatively new to hear her swearing, but I can't deny it's fucking _hot_. I drive my fingers up into her deeper, making her moan against my jaw as she kisses it. I can feel her hand slide down my body, across my stomach, beneath my pajamas, and then it's my turn to swear as her fingers slip inside me.

She nips at my jaw, and I meet her thrusts with my hips, trying to keep my own hand moving between her legs, because I want her to feel good, too. My heart's pounding; the heat from the fireplace combined with the overheated state of my body and the warmth radiating from Brittany is stifling. My breaths are coming in rapid, heavy gasps, and I feel my stomach tensing. Brittany kisses me, her fingers fill me, slipping easily in and out of me, and she keeps pace with my hand, so that I feel completely connected to her.

When she starts to get close- I can tell by the way she's strangling my fingers- her eyes find mine, and she cups my face, holding the contact. I slide my arm around her waist, keeping her pressed close as I move inside her, and when she comes, she arches against me, shuddering. The look in her eyes, reflecting the Christmas lights and the love I have for her, pushes me to the edge, and her breathless _I love you_ sends me hurtling over it, and then my orgasm hits me, too, making me tighten my grip on Brittany as we continue to move inside each other, bringing ourselves down.

She kisses me, and I slide my hand up to cup her face, to tangle my fingers in her hair, and after a while, we melt into the couch together, laughing breathlessly at our impromptu lovefest on Christmas Eve. She wraps her legs around mine, entangling us further, and shifts into me, settling against my side. I can feel her warm breaths on my neck, her hand once again lazily stroking along my stomach, and I smile, feeling tired and content in a way I haven't felt since the war ended.

After a while, Brittany falls asleep, and I just hold her, pressing intermittent kisses to her forehead and thanking whatever powers-there-be that I'm alive; that Christmas exists.

But most of all, that I found Brittany.

(Isn't that what Christmas is all about?)

* * *

**Awwwww~ super cheesy. :')**

**So obviously I set this up for a future one-shot about Santana meeting Britt's parents…. If anyone cares to see that, that is. Hahaha. **

**In any case, review if you feel like it, but if not, that's okay, I hope you enjoyed it anyway. :)**

**See you soon, pals!  
**

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***for those waiting for a **Savage**! update, chapter 5 is done, I just need to edit it. I'm hoping to have it up this weekend, so stay tuned!


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